


Where the Crow Flies

by Ragnelle



Series: Battlememories [3]
Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: Angst, Battlefield, Dark, Gen, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-05 00:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragnelle/pseuds/Ragnelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle of Pelennor Fields is over and the carrion feast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Crow Flies

He could smell death; the rotting flesh of horses and men. Too many. Too many to even start thinking of burying. The air was dry with soot and smoke and dust. He stumbled in the mire and mud covering the field. Dark, sticky mud that smelled of earth and blood and ashes.

_Caw caw_

A flock of crows sat on a horse, pecking at its eyes and flesh. It lay so still, the mane spread out around it, tangled and entwined in the wreckage, matted with mud and mire. He could no longer see what colour it had been, but the flesh was red and its bones white.

_Caw caw_

The birds fought and quarrelled, wings flapping and claws digging into the flesh or tangling in the mane. And Éomer watched the eye-sockets that could not see, not even to stare blindly at the sky; the eyes were already gone.

_Caw caw_

At the back of his throat sour, burning gall, in his ears the deafening  _caw, caw, cawing_  of the crows. All he could see was that mane, filthy and knotted, and the empty eye-sockets.

_Caw caw_

It was too much. He bent down, picked up a stone and threw it at the birds.

_Caw_

They flew up and parted to let the stone fall, its flight undisturbed. Before it hit the ground they were back; pecking, always pecking the flesh. And all Éomer could see was the mane, flowing out on the ground, golden in the sunlight breaking through the clouds.

_Sister!_

Hair that never should have lain in the mud. Head that never should have touched the ground. Those eyes that never would dance with laughter or burn with anger at him again.

_Caw caw_

He sank to his knees. Wet, cold blood seeped into his clothes, but he could not feel it. His head was bent and the muscles of his jaw stiff and aching. He clenched the ground with his hands and pressed his eyes shut. No. Not yet.

He was a warrior. And he had not protected her.

_Caw, caw_.

The birds feasted; the man and his pain meaningless to them. Peck, peck, pecking away the flesh, cleaning away the carrion to the bare bones, their voices hacking away all his defences until grief was all there was left.

_Caw caw_

He wept.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as a part of "Memories of battle" but did not fit quite in the format of those vignettes.
> 
> The setting of don't quite match the descriptions of Tolkien, but I believe the emotions and general intention is compatible with Tolkien's books.
> 
> Beta: Lia (Lialathuveril)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any of the characters in it.


End file.
